


YoU caN't leT me gO

by DISINTEGRETION



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batjokes, Gay, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DISINTEGRETION/pseuds/DISINTEGRETION
Summary: How does it feel to fall from grace?
Maybe that was just another tale, like the one about his father, or the other about his wife, maybe The Joker lived so many lives he couldn’t even remember all by his only own. But he seemed so fragile, broken, blown to pieces...
[...] You can only let it flow.





	YoU caN't leT me gO

“Batman! Batman, where are you?” he screamed out loud, in total darkness.

“Oh, Batman c’mon, I can’t wait to tell you a story” his laugh rumbled, again and again.

“Batman, Batman, Batman” he was repeating like a refrain, licking his lips with the same speed whom a butterfly flap with its wings.

“Why are you hiding? I just want to play, and you are what the Universe decided to give me, so come out and face me and let’s have fun together! Don’t you want to play with me? We can find a compromise and have fun both”

“Do you know how I got these scars?” shouted another time.

One thunderbolt crossed the left Joker’s eye and showed his madness, his hysteria, his insane desire of filling his veins up to the brain, with pain, with blood; but that night, he was not going to sharpen one of his umpteen knives, oh no, no no no, he would have seen the fright into Batman’s irises up to the brim, and listened to his exacerbate and genuine supplication words, then he would have answered with one of his psychopath laughs, but he wouldn’t be soiled with blood, not that time, not with the dark knight still plunged into the sombre shadow of the hovel that that night decided to host their clash.

“Ha ha ha ha, I know your jokes, I know _you_ , my friend” he laughed.

“But you still don’t know me and all the tricks I have to show you” he whispered softly, quickly, while black lucidity seized again his mind.

“It’s me, Batman. It’s me that always confounds you. It’s me that was designed to fight you, to joke with people’s life, and yours. You know, there was a boy –” another lighting crossed the room, a thunder, the large room was illuminated, and all its secrets were betrayed. Nothing more to hide.

Batman was hanging to a wooden beam, looking at him with atrocious curiosity, cruel tenderness and suddenly he sprang up Joker’s body, he wrapped his arms but the green haired bedlamite was quicker than the other and he could get rid of the grip in a few seconds. Maybe Batman didn’t have the strenght to beat The Joker, maybe he didn’t want to, the fact is that he found himself out tied up to a chair.

The Joker indeed had hit his head against an old wall and upon his waking he felt his head like heavy, and like ivy, a huge desperation, desire of liberty, was permeating his veins, flowing in his limbs, issuing wherever that sense could reach off his body.

“Ha ha ha, he, he he, ha ha ha. Still trying to catch me? After all we have been through?

You must know you can’t cheat me. And I don’t like when you try to do it. Not - one - bit”

And The Joker had this habit: he could be frighteningly hilarious and a moment later damned serious, scary. And he was terribly scary right in that trice, but also fascinating, oh yeah, Batman could have swore, The Joker was really bewitching, him and his scars, his mind, so twisted; he couldn’t even clinch.

“As I was saying” The Joker spoke again, hitting his index finger against his chest, diverting him by his thoughts. Batman could barely gasp, while Joker’s breath was infringing against his jaw.

“There was this boy...”

“...He was a freak, he worked in this falling-to-pieces circus. He took up one of the most important scenes in there, well he was the ace in the hole for everybody to survive, because there were no money. Whosoever bet on his role. But one day, he felt so alone and he started finding for some fun, you know? That sort of you go find when you feel empty, when an apt heart can host you and you can feel almost in your place.   
He found out this guy, he was sitting on a fence.  
He was handsome, I can tell. And the little boy, lost, smashed into smithereens, was blinded by the light of his laugh. He just went and kissed him. Not even the time to realize, not even to tell each other their names. He felt it was the right thing to do, because if you are void, you want to glut the big hole your heart holds, at any cost. The bad part is that he liked it, and that guy too, but they hadn’t even the time to get that action was terribly sick because the two men were in front of the boss, and that couldn’t go right, not at all. – The Joker had a moment of hesitation, but a time later his scars turned up again, the scarred man giggled again, he couldn’t lose his mind – So the chief, outraged and pretty raging, trashed them out, not before having the boy stuck between life and death. A boy had kissed his son, he had to pay for it. He loosed tigers trained for the show from the inside of a jail.   
The animals clawed him, he couldn’t move one muscle, they slashed and defaced him, wildly. But the boy felt quite happy, paradoxically, even if he was quitting life.   
The boss’ son cried a lot in front of him, he thought he was dead, ahead his nude eyes.  
He didn’t die, no, but he still carries the memory of that day on, physically imprinted on his body. He still wears scars, but there’s an absurd curve on them, because - bloody hell - he was leaving forever, but he could fill his hole.  
The chief’s son took him up to the hospital, then he left him forever. The boy has never seen him again. Now, for bitter twist of fate, _I_ am always smiling”

And maybe that “I” wasn’t supposed to be pronounced.   
The Joker fell on his knees, at the height of Batman’s ones.

_How does it feel to fall from grace?_

Maybe that was just another tale, like the one about his father, or the other about his wife, maybe The Joker lived so many lives he couldn’t even remember all by his only own. But he seemed so fragile, broken, blown to pieces...

Maybe everything was true, maybe not. At the end, does even truth exist?

_How could you blame a morbid mind?_

You can only let it flow. The Batman couldn’t even do that, he couldn’t find the force not to listen to Joker’s story, altough he wanted to, he’d rather be the magnet for his fears, at the end, The Joker was trembling, with his face digged in his make-up. He wished the other wasn’t wearing it, to see his nature, bare, dirty, guilty, poor.

He lifted one hand up to the Joker’s shoulder, but the last shrank back like burnt. His eyes were ice, his soul was frozen, he was just The Joker, and he pulled out a knife tighted in his back.

He untied the Batman up, and “fight me!” screamed like he was about to lose his voice. Pain flowed in his tone, it could look like The Joker wanted some proof to still survive on the earth, to be alive, with the blood sliding in his veins, and not just remorses.   
To show that he kills people to be better, to slay his pain with people’s one, and until that moment it seemed like working: madness blazes in his veins everytime he reaps another victim, making him lost in his own foolery, making him raped by his desperation so big he could have drowned in it.

He felt that like fun, so why stop doing things that make you feel better, fair, just because they’re unfair for another human being?

He was just good at that, and he often told if you are good at something, never do it for free, and exactly according to his words, he kills for his own fun, and this is enough for us to know.

The Batman ran toward him, nothing could stop the desire of hitting The Joker, a human being so hermetic, so strange, and like this last listened to his thoughts said “I believe that whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you… stranger”. His eyes became aflame.

The Batman got The Joker, then it was all a tangle of punches, kicks, derisive laughters and disjointed sentences. Then, dark, The Joker cut the only part left overdraft around his mouth with the knife. He throw a painful yell.

“Don’t scream, Bruce, are we going to wake all the city up? I have another idea to make that, but for the moment, let me treat you”

“Don’t touch me!” shrieked with his hoarse and deep voice.

“Why? You look shocked. Is it for my being moody? Oh, you must know, I can be incredibly incostant” The Joker walked up to Batman’s aching body; not so aching, let’s be honest, The Batman defeated a lot of criminals that had more dangerous weapons, the truth is that he couldn’t stand The Joker, he had this sempiternal conflicting desire to kill or kiss him, love all his madness and be sorrounded by it.

So The Joker did what he wanted precisely in that moment. He rolled his tongue by the blood that was flowing near to the lips, he sucked away the liquid, the pain, he washed the wish that both had and none of them ventured to secede each other.

“Seen? You can’t let me go” blowed The Joker in a whisper.

Then came back the fancy of destructing the other. The two dashed at the same time on each other lips, and bited, up to make blood slide from the lips, but that could be a lovely pain. The Batman pushed his back against the wall and then it was all a tracking of shouts, and moans, and heavy breaths and sentences left in the middle.

At least, at the end, the scars didn’t serve to draw a smile on Joker’s face that night.


End file.
